Say It
by Popcorn Love
Summary: It was a battle of wills, one waiting for the other to crack first. Molly had won but she had also lost. Sherlock had lost completely. It was another tug of war and neither wanted to lose, again. Tonight, they had lost but they had also won. *Sherlolly, Contains Season 4 Spoilers & Not Beta Read*


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

* * *

Molly Hooper felt nauseous. No, she was not sick, just suffocated by dread. Her phone rang sharply, piercing through the tension that was bearing down on her. The pressure did not ease, merely giving the pathologist a temporarily pause for breath. It was also asking her heart to make room for more pain. Disguising the internal turmoil that was on the verge of burning her, Molly walked over to the countertop. Ignoring the phone, the pathologist began to make tea.

 _Don't slice off your fingers, Molly._

She forcefully shoved another rebellious sob down her throat and proceeded to take a jar out from one of the cupboards, not even bothered to check what was in it. Molly could care less if it was poison but the truth was the pathologist cared. She could not die, at the very least not yet, not until they were safe. Molly eyed her phone warily as it continued to ring.

Relief and pain washed over her when the phone quietened down and her façade threatened to crumble but she was holding up, barely but well enough. The second call soon came. The pathologist glanced at the name that showed up on her Caller ID, the same man who caused her so much agony but also, in a way, taught her so much about love.

Molly answered the call and her tone was a lot less firm than what she would have preferred. To calm her fraying nerves, she tried to clear the mess on the countertop. Not exactly the greatest of ideas. The metal spoon slipped out of the pathologist's sweaty palm and made a loud clank against the tea cup before she went on to wrestle with the jar.

Discarding her not so spectacular display of nonchalance, Molly stopped her half-hearted clean up and urged the consulting detective on stating the intention behind his call even though she already knew it.

"Molly, please, without asking why, just say these words." Her mind must be playing tricks because Sherlock actually sounded…afraid? For her?

"What words?" The pathologist never thought that one day she would be the one lying through her teeth and it prompted an ironical smile.

"I love you." The game had officially begun and despite being an unwilling player, it was Molly's turn to make her move.

"Leave me alone." She pretended to hang up on him and the pathologist could hear the panic rising in his voice. Molly was informed that out of the three siblings, Sherlock was the sentimental one. She was not surprised.

"…But, please, just say those words for me."

 _Don't beg, Sherlock. Please don't make this any more difficult than it already is._

"Please don't do this. Just...just…don't do it." It was only a matter of time before her mask would shatter to pieces but she could not lose. The pathologist could not let Sherlock win because she needed to. Molly simply had to win.

"It's very important. I can't say why, but I promise you it is." Her heart clenched tightly when she heard the consulting detective say the word 'important'.

"I can't say that. I can't…I can't say that to you." It was a battle of wills, one waiting for the other to crack first.

"Because…it's…true, Sherlock. It's always been _true_." In the end, Molly was the one who broke first but she could still win this.

"You say it first…Say it. Say it like you mean it."

It was a huge gamble for Molly but time was almost up. The pathologist could not help it but press the phone closer to her ear, not wanting to miss out the all-important 3 syllables. To Eurus, it might be a game but to Molly, it was not. It was all too real for her, the pain a faithful reminder of that.

"I-I…I love you." Molly also could not stop the smile from crawling up. How could she? The words uttered from Sherlock might not be true but it was good enough for Molly. Eight letters made up his name and from the very first day that she met him, carved onto her heart like a tattoo. Now, eight more letters were engraved right under the consulting detective's name. Words that Molly could not say back to him, no matter how much she yearned to do so.

 _Sherlock_

 _I love you_

The pathologist listened to his plead for the last time before the timer sounded, before he yelled out her name, before the call was disconnected.

Molly had won but she had also lost.

Eurus returned and replayed the scene to Molly where Sherlock had wrecked the coffin with anguish. The pathologist had never seen him this furious before.

"No."

 _Bang_

"No!"

 _Smash_

"No!"

 _Crash_

"No!"

 _Shout_

"NO!"

 _Cry_

"N-no."

 _Whimper_

"Molly…"

Or this broken before.

"My, my," Eurus tut-tutted, "Look what you did to my dear brother. The Great Consulting Detective brought down to his knees by all those complicated little emotions. How disappointing, I thought he would be above _emotional context_. Oh well, I always knew he was the weak one."

Molly pushed herself up from the floor; emotions that Eurus despised so much building up inside the pathologist akin to a pressure cooker until they were screaming for release. Anger when mixed with fear produced reckless courage outlined by desperation.

"You are also taken hostage by emotional context, that's why you set up this elaborate game, isn't it? All this is your attempt to attract their attention because you felt abandoned by them. Sherlock had forgotten about you and you want him to remember you in the most excruciating way possible so he can never forget you again. Emotions aren't complicated; they are straightforward, so straightforward that you can't wrap your mind around it. It's too simple for you to process and understand because everything just has to be so complicated."

The pathologist stopped herself before she spun out of control; it would not do to further piss Eurus off. "I won and Sherlock lost. I made him say those 3 words without saying them myself. I did my part so keep your side of the bargain and let them go."

Eurus leaned back into her chair and contemplated. "I should have rigged your flat with explosives then Sherlock would never recover. That would be an interesting sight to behold," then the screen promptly blacked out and a message showed up.

 _Your reward for putting up a good show awaits at Baker Street._

The pathologist immediately dashed out of her door.

* * *

Molly carried Rosie who thankfully had fallen asleep among the chaos and appeared to be unfazed by her 'adventure'; she did take after her mother. The landlady stayed close to them, only a little shaken. After all, Mrs Hudson had seen her fair share of danger over the years. The pathologist handed the child over, "I'm so sorry, John. Rosie's life was at risk because I wasn't careful."

A bit bruised and battered himself, the doctor was still able to manage a small smile for Molly, "It's not your fault and she's safe now." John then sneaked a look at the consulting detective standing not far away, "Go talk to him. Sherlock acts like he's fine but we all know he's not. I'm glad that you are alright, Molls. I can't…" She hugged the doctor, "I know, John. I know," and the father-daughter pair left.

Unsure, the pathologist looked around aimlessly and touched her hair. What now? Their line of vision collided suddenly. They could not tear their eyes off of each other, they would not. Another tug of war and neither wanted to lose, again. They closed the distance between them and met in the middle.

"Sher-"

"Mol-"

Both stopped awkwardly.

"You go first."

"You go first."

Then both went silent.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

Only to continue and stop abruptly for the second time.

Silence then resumed for what seemed like eternity when it merely lasted for a few seconds. Love could take the form of a magnifying glass, enlarging everything that was placed under it. Time and space, pain and happiness.

"I didn't know that you would be this affected by my 'death'. I thought-"

"You thought wrong, Molly."

Did Sherlock resent her for winning? She had to win, for Rosie and Mrs Hudson, he knew that.

"Would you say it back? If you could, would you say it?"

 _Don't give up on me._

"I always would, Sherlock."

Tonight, they had lost but they had also won.

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 **Author's note:** It's been a while for me so pardon me if I became rusty in my writing. Hope you would still enjoy it :)


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